


Permission

by derekstilinski



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Caretaking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Non-Graphic Violence, Other, memory recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1526195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derekstilinski/pseuds/derekstilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Bucky’s captured by SHIELD, they put him in a holding cell, and strip him of everything but his clothes. He’s dirty, damaged, and Steve can’t just watch him like that, protocol or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Permission

"You took his arm?" Steve asks and this is the first time he really sees what’s left of Bucky’s real arm. There’s scars and burn marks that look deep.

"He broke the handcuff, and cracked an agent’s ribs with those metal fingers." Natasha says, "No way we were gonna let that happen again."

Steve takes a breath and looks at Bucky through the glass. His long hair in his face, paint smudged along his eyes just above a cut along his cheekbone, caked with dried blood. 

They’ve taken just about everything from him. Most of his clothes, leaving him in a wife beater and the heavy pants he was captured in, holster wrapped around one of his thighs empty. He’s bruised and looks tired, and they’ve shoved that mask on him, muzzling him.

Steve turns away, grabs the basin of water he’d brought with him, and holds up a hand to Natasha.

She raises an eyebrow, “You’re not going in there.”

He hardens his expression at her, “Who says?”

"Fury," She replies, "The Soldier gets angry when you’re so much as mentioned."

"He has a name," He holds his hand open wider, "Key."

Natasha looks like she’ll say no, but she’s glancing back to Bucky, and then to Steve again. She sighs, flicks the pouch on her hip open and hands over the little ring of keys. Steve gives her a soft look before he’s walking to the door, sliding the key in. Bucky flinches at the slight noise.

Steve walks in, closes the door very softly behind him, and settles the keys in his back pocket. He takes a step forward and Bucky’s eyes go wide, moving into a defensive position where he’s crouched and shackled in the corner.

"Hi, Buck." Steve says softly, setting the basin on the table and slipping off his jacket, turning in a circle after to show he’s not armed.

Bucky just looks at him through the strands of his hair. Steve picks up the basin and pads over slowly, to not alarm him. Bucky does look alarmed anyway.

Steve settles the basin on the ground beside him, and kneels down in front of him. Bucky’s fist comes around immediately and gets him in the jaw, and it makes him move back an inch or so. Bucky makes a snarling noise at him, muffled by the mask, and swings again. The chain around his wrist is long enough for him to catch Steve’s cheek.

Bucky’s chest heaves and he goes for another punch, but Steve catches his fist, holds it when Bucky tries to pull back, “Bucky,”

He watches Bucky’s face spark in recognition for the slightest of moments, then he’s struggling against Steve again. Steve holds his free hand up, “Listen, okay?”

Bucky’s brows furrow, and Steve keeps going while he’s got his attention, “I’m not here to hurt you, and you know that. You’re smart, I know you know that… I’m gonna let your hand go. Please don’t hit me.”

Steve does let him go and Bucky’s hand opens, grabbing the chain and wrapping it around his hand slowly. He could hit Steve with it, he could, and it would hurt more than his knuckles. But he tugs at it like a warning and watches Steve closely.

"It must be hard to breathe, with that." Steve gestures to his mask, then holds his hands up, "I’m gonna take it off, if that’s okay."

Bucky stays completely still, and Steve moves in closer, close enough for Bucky to easily be able to harm his face, or a vital organ. And by the look Bucky gives, he knows it, too.

The mask comes off with a small click when Steve presses on the fastening, and carefully follows the straps with his fingers, then takes it from Bucky’s face. He’s got imprints from the edges digging into him, and lots of scratchy stubble. The way Bucky breathes in is like he’s thankful.

Steve sets it aside and his hands find the washcloth he draped over the side of the basin, fingers dipping it into the warm water.

"You used to do this for me," Steve informs quietly, squeezing it out, "I’d get into fights with men bigger than me, and I wouldn’t run away. You’d tell me I was stupid, and run some water, and clean me up."

He moves the cloth towards Bucky, and Bucky ducks away from it, suspicious of it. Steve sets it to cover his mouth and nose, takes a deep breath to show him there’s nothing but water and a hint of soap on it.

"Okay?" He asks, bringing it forward again, slowly, until it’s touching the side of Bucky’s neck. Steve gives him a little smile, "Thank you."

Bucky watches his face, barely blinking. Steve runs the washcloth up Bucky’s neck, back down, careful of the angry bruise by the hollow of his throat. He moves up, rubbing over the stubble to clean the dirt off his cheeks, other hand coming up on instinct to move his hair. Bucky flinches again, giving a look that Steve takes as he’s feeling trapped now. Steve has him against a wall after all, blocking in front of him with his body, and his hands are closing in close to his face.

Steve delicately takes some hair between his fingers, pulls it back to tuck behind Bucky’s ear, “You used to get so mad at me when I’d fight. Because you’d worry someone would aim right and it would kill me. Break all those fragile bones,”

Bucky looks like he doesn’t believe a word Steve’s saying. Steve gently starts in on the eye paint, “You think I’m a liar.”

Bucky looks away, towards another wall, and very quietly spits out, “I ain’t calling you a liar.”

Steve’s heart jerks violently in his chest, but doesn’t make a comment about him speaking, “I could tell you more. Because I know why you’re angry with me. I know you remembered something you don’t want to admit,”

Bucky’s breathing stutters a bit, eyes flicking to Steve’s, then away again. Steve runs his fingers along Bucky’s cheekbone, “If you remember, I want you to close one of your eyes and let me get this stuff off you.”

Bucky looks very reluctant, and sets his jaw. Steve swipes under his eye gently, “You can hold onto me. You’ll know if I aim to move. And you can take me down, I won’t fight you.”

Bucky swallows, eyes search the tiled floor for some guidance he won’t get. Then he chains rattle as he lets go of them, moves to quickly fist a hand in his shirt.

Steve runs his thumb over his white knuckles, “I’d never hurt you,”

Bucky closes one of his eyes and lets Steve gently rub the paint away. He moves slowly when he soaks the cloth again, squeezes it out and does his other eye, tends to the cut on his cheek, “You remembered something about us… Something intimate,”

Bucky’s whole body stiffens but Steve washes the rest of his face like he doesn’t notice, “It’s okay, Bucky. It really is. It was our secret, and it still is.”

"Bullshit," Bucky hisses, pressing his scowling face close to Steve’s, "They know."

"I didn’t tell them." Steve says calmly, rubbing his thumb along Bucky’s chin, frowning at how chapped his lips are. He dips the cloth again and dabs at Bucky’s lips to give some moisture. He doesn’t let it hurt him that Bucky doesn’t relax like he used to all those years ago, when Steve would bite too hard and Bucky would relax into him cleaning up the split, part his lips just so.

Bucky stares at him for a few moments, then grits out, “Why not?”

"I don’t have your permission to say. It’s not just my life, you get a say over it, too."

Bucky pulls back a little, “No, you don’t have permission.”

Steve nods softly, “Okay.” Bucky looks surprised at that. Steve looks up into his eyes again, “I’d like to get you out of that shirt. Is that okay?”

Bucky takes a few moments before he nods. Steve sets the cloth down, and takes out the keyring, “I’m trusting you. Wholeheartedly, like always. You know that.”

And he undoes the cuff. He can hear Natasha’s hands press to the glass in urgency, but ignores her. He doesn’t look at Bucky’s face, just gently picks up the cloth and holds his wrist, laying it over the raw of his skin where the cuff dug into him.

"I understand you’re not him anymore, the Bucky I remember. And I won’t try to turn you back into him." Steve says as he leans down slightly, presses a kiss to the heel of his hand. Bucky could easily rear up with the heel of his hand and break his nose, kill him that way. But when he looks up, Bucky looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

He nods shortly at him and starts to peel the dirty wife beater off him. Bucky puts both knees on the floor and lets him. Steve lays it aside, he’ll take it with him, wash it so it smells and feels fresh again. Bucky’s head hangs, watching Steve’s hands clean him.

"If I go to get some gauze for your wrist, will you let me wrap it up?" Steve asks, because he can see some blood trickling down his wrist.

Bucky looks up at him, almost confused at why Steve cares so much. But then the way his facial expression shifts, he knows why. Steve gives him an affirmative nod, “Will you let me?”

Bucky nods minutely and Steve hands him the cloth, then stands, “I’ll be right back, then.” He moves to the door, unlocks it, and shuts it behind him.

Natasha scowls at him, arms crossed over her chest, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You can’t take that cuff off him.”

"It was hurting him." Steve tells her simply, walking past her to the other room, grabbing out the first-aid kit. After Bucky attacked a few agents while they were getting him in the holding cell, there’s not a lot left. But he grabs what’s left of the gauze, medical tape, and ointment.

"He could hurt other people, Rogers. I’ll have to tell Fury about this," She says, grabbing his arm, "He’s dangerous."

"And so am I. And so are you." He tells her pointedly.

They both look when Bucky shifts from his corner. He’s gently touching the basin, seeing how dirty the water is. He can’t see Steve or Natasha unless they disengage the reflector panels. Bucky’s getting up timidly, hair falling in his face again.

"See? You let him out. He’s gonna take that advantage." Natasha says disapprovingly.

"You talk like you know him." Steve says, watching the way Bucky moves, checking around everything; the dirty spot on the floor where they shoved him in, took his boots off him. Bloody hand print on the wall, when he got a good punch in before they took his metal arm. He eyes the cot pushed up against another corner, with a shackle bolted into the ground next to it.

Then he’s looking at Steve’s jacket, laid down on the floor.

Steve holds his breath, watches and watches until Bucky’s kneeling down, fingers skimming over the brown leather. He retracts after, backs up, rubbing over the stump of his left arm with his right. He backs up until he’s in the corner again, knees pulled to his chest, looking small, frightened.

Steve slowly moves back to the door and lets himself in again. Bucky takes a breath that Steve can see shudder and he moves closer. This time, he sits in front of him instead of kneeling, crossing his legs Indian style on the floor. He settles the medical supplies down and holds his hand out for Bucky’s wrist, which is given to him.

"You look tired. We’ll get you set up in the cot, and tomorrow I’ll be back… You still like scrambled eggs and ketchup?" He fixes up his wrist, wraps it snug, tapes it down.

"…I do." Bucky says very quietly.

Steve nods, “Then that’s what I’ll bring,” 

He gets a bit more of the ointment on the tip of his finger and raises his hands slowly, and Bucky stays still for him to rub it softly onto the cut on his cheek. Bucky winces a bit but Steve shushes him.

He leaves the supplies by the basin and lifts himself from the ground, holding his hand out for Bucky after. He looks up at him, unsure, but Steve holds out a little more, “Come on.”

Bucky’s hesitant hand comes up and Steve pulls him up, holds his side with his other hand. Bucky flinches away and it’s okay. Steve tells himself it’s okay. He gets Bucky to the cot, fluffs up the pillow for him.

"Are you gonna put that on me?" Bucky asks almost raggedly about the shackle, like all this kindness was to trap him again.

"No," Steve’s hand hovers over his shoulder, then eventually lays his hand there, "Lay down before you fall down," Bucky looks at him, then sits on the cot, "Can I ask a few more things of you?"

Bucky shrugs. Steve pulls a hair tie from his jeans pocket, and sets it on Bucky’s knee. Then he moves over, picks up his jacket. Bucky’s holding the tie between his fingers.

"Just in case you wanted to keep the hair out of your eyes," Steve gestures, "Lay down, alright?"

Bucky holds the tie in his hand and settles himself on the cot, staring blankly, all curled up on his side. Steve drapes his jacket over him and leans, pressing a kiss to his unkempt hair. He turns to leave and he’s at the door when he hears a whisper,

"I remember that."

Steve smiles softly to himself, “I know, Buck.”

—

He comes back in the morning with coffee, a bag of breakfast and a blanket, and sees a row of agents lining Bucky’s cell. He’s pushing through them to see what’s happened, and his heart calms when he sees it’s just Bucky. Wearing his jacket, and his hair is up out of his eyes using the tie Steve gave him. He doesn’t have any of the shackles back on.

"He asked me to help him with it," Agent 13 says, "His hair, I mean. And he said no to food, because he said you were bringing it for him. And he doesn’t want anyone else in the room."

Steve nods, gets the keys from her and walks in. Bucky looks up at him and his face softens just a little, “Steve.”

"You remembered my name?" Steve asks, sitting down on the floor. He puts the blanket over the cot and sets out breakfast there on the floor.

Bucky slips down next to him slowly after a few long moments, “No… The blond told me.”

Steve nods, opens his box with his eggs inside for him, opens the ketchup packets for him. Bucky makes a face, but Steve shakes his head, “Shut up about it.”

"Punk." Bucky says immediately, and then realizes he didn’t mean to say it, looks up at Steve in awe.

Steve smiles at him, “…I’m gonna put sugar in your coffee, get some color back in your stupid face.”

Bucky gives him this look like he’s accepting something much bigger than that.


End file.
